Take heart, fellow Tennesseans, we’re the 7th happiest state (based on climate, taxes, cost of living, commuting time, crime, schools [!] etc.) — New York is #51 (D.C. is #37).
So, the defensive-sounding Times reporter can’t resist asking: “Are people in [happy places like TN] truly happy, or are they wearing ‘What, me worry?’ smiles?”
Speakin’ just for me & some people from TN: truly, mostly.
You know the ubiquitous legend (not sure it’s particularly urban) about the hundredth monkey who tips the critical mass and creates a shared attribute of consciousness for all monkeys ever-after? Or something like that. Weird, as I learned in logic class years ago.
The implication is that a collective consciousness can be created by a cadre of initiates who transform their myth into our
reality simply by believing. Reality is just that up for grabs, supposedly, for all us primates. This is another of Carl Sagan’s “demons,” and an invitation to philosophical skepticism. Malcolm Gladwell’s “tipping points” may be real enough, but they’re incrementally viral– not magical.
But beware, holiday revelers. You can get in big trouble for calling the emperor out and naming this as the nonsense that it is. Better to let people at Christmas parties have their tipping, typing, believing, reality-manifesting monkeys and save the critical thinking for class. Alas.
Will I ever learn? Probably not. But if I do, I want personal credit for my educability. I’m already catching the blame.
I was not up at dawn today. Can’t recall the last time I slept ’till 7:30. Must’ve been worn out from tending dogs & earth-stove and watching old MLB classics. (I didn’t think the world was still b&w in 1970!)
Just for the record: I’m glad the Titans won, and confess tuning in on my ancient Little House set (w/digital converter box) in time to see the winning field goal. But Charlie Brown was on channel 2. No contest.
I was recently astonished to learn that a colleague’s old dog of many years, “Phoenix,” died in June. So did ours.
We’ve worked together for many years but had never discussed our respective canine companions, and so had not discovered the improbable coincidence of their sharing a relatively rare name. Their shared fate was not so rare, but its timing was still an improbable shock.
I think we both can appreciate Verlyn Klinkenborg’s tribute to his own old friend, “Darcy,” and his recognition that good lives and good deaths are not exclusively human attainments. Letting loved ones go, whatever their pedigree, is hard. But it’s not finally about us.
“It comes down, in the end, to the pleasure she shows, the interest she takes in the world around her — and not to anything her
humans feel. She has not had the life she might once have expected — a far better one instead. My job is to make sure she gets the death she deserves — in her human’s arms.
And so she has. She died quietly last Friday while I sat on the floor beside her at the vet’s. The world is a poorer place without her.”
My sister is grieving for her “Pedro,” mysteriously afflicted just the other day. I’m very sorry for your loss, D.
Soon– if not already– the sadness will merge with the happy memories: another gift of love unbounded by pedigree.
We all know the experience of being stumped for a reply, only to fashion the perfect statement shortly after the moment to deliver it has passed.
I had a dream last night. I was at some sort of university convocation with my old friend B., at his school. We were each called to the podium in turn, asked to comment on some “gap” or other in education. When my turn came, I stammered something inelegant and uninspired.
And then, somewhere between the dream-state and semi-wakefulness, I heard myself muttering– either to myself or to B.– “Why did I not mention John Dewey and A Common Faith?
Not sure it would have fit the storyline of that particular dream, but it is worth mentioning. Dewey says a resolve to close the gap between actual conditions in the world and our ideals (justice, universal freedom, peace, prosperity, brother-and sister-hood et al) “has always been the implicit common faith of mankind.” It is a solid cornerstone upon which to build an atheistic, humanistic, naturalistic spirituality. He went so far as to call that form of active resolve a new and improved concept of God. A positive god of the gaps, if you will.
I know it is not the most exciting dream, not even as philosophy dreams go. Just thought I would mention it before the moment passes.
Kids say the darnedest things (“Nature is a great natural phenomenon,” “Ayn Rand makes a lot of sense”) and I’m up to my neck reading and grading them now. So the next installment of Richardson’s James bio must wait. But here’s a quick and crucial thought whose time apparently is still not yet, dating from the eve of the great earthquake that confirmed for James his sense of the possibility of a “moral equivalent of war”:
“The wars of the future must be waged inside of every country, between the destructive and constructive ideals and forces.”
“Destructive” is on a winning streak, but Happy Pragmatists like James and me have our rally caps on.
Back to the pile.
That’s what I’m in the middle of. Here’s an unoriginal reflection: I don’t like it.
More precisely, I don’t like assigning letter grades. I do like giving credit for good work, and encouragement, and positive reinforcement. I like helping students figure out how to say what they mean, and I like discovering that the shy and silent types have something to say.
But assigning letter grades just always feels too arbitrary, too reductive. I’d rather give pats and prods and pokes and praise. But I’m the umpire, and it’s a ball even when it’s a strike according to the rule-book my university has instructed me to follow. The game would never end if there were no balls and strikes, and it has to end so a new one can begin in January.
So I just have to call ‘em as I see ‘em, and try to be consistent.
Don’t worry, folks. Soon enough, you’ll all be safe at home.
Exam day turned into one last lively class session, yesterday morning. Before the exam there were two report presentations on morality, one on power, and one on free will. The many points of interesting overlap were too numerous to trace, in the short time that remained to us.
Shenae began, wondering what power really means. I had some fun with her Barney Fife spelling of “Frued,” and his “penis envy,” and “SuperEgo” safe sex. But her Nietzschean point was fundamentally correct: the most impressive demonstration of power is self-directed.
Nick gave us a nice report on free will and determinism, featuring John Searle talking about the problem of squaring consciousness and free will with the idea of universal causation. (“Brain Story,” BBC)
Then Yasser defended the “divine command” theory of morality, and Brian insisted– notwithstanding his own brush with armed robbery this very week-end– that morality is subjective.
All of these topics deserve a lot of critical attention. But I have papers to grade, so I’m going to turn it over J & M. The implicit view supported by their little colloquy here: even if you think the correct values and morals are objective, you have to use your “subjective” reason to make the case. Read Plato’s Euthyphro for elaboration.
I’m not sure it’s really one of the year’s best ideas, but Peter Ward speaks for many when he says “We must overcome nature… We do not want to go ‘back to nature.”‘ Others will agree that Mother Earth would be just fine without us. His Medea Hypothesis, named after the Greek mother who slaughtered her own children, says we’ve not been good biotic citizens, or children of the earth, for a very long time. “Life seems to be actively pursuing its own demise, moving earth ever closer to the inevitable day when it returns to its original state: sterile.” 
But come on: “inevitable” it may be, but the worst kind of pre-sterility may still be entirely evitable. We’d best hope so, and act in accord with our hopes. Dr. Flicker was right, we’ve got to enjoy ourselves while we’re here. We’re not sterile yet.
And isn’t it premature to declare that life is rare in the universe? We’ve really only just begun to murmur and to pioneer our little corner of the cosmos, let’s keep an ear to the stars and keep listening for a reply to Carl Sagan’s plaque.
Delight Springs (my DAY blog) | mina mousa on Bertrand Russell |
 | amanda korous on our place |
 | osopher on our place |
 | Bob Teesdale on our place |
| osopher on our place |
